Emperor of the Fireflies Read online

  “No,” Kai heard him mutter between clenched teeth. “I can’t – I won’t – obey.” He threw back his head and let out a great howl of frustration that echoed like a thunderclap around the mountainside.

  But then, as if the distant voice summoning him had the power to draw him back against his will, he rose into the sky and sped off above the tops of the trees, scattering a trail of sparks behind him.

  Kai stamped on the sparks as they landed, hearing them fizzle beneath the soles of his feet. The smell of burning grass soured the clean air but as he raised his head to check the sky there was nothing left but a faint trail of fast-dispersing smoke, silver-gray against the blue.

  “He’s gone – for now,” he called.

  Sakami emerged from her hiding place, then halted, staring at the singed wood of the torii, the fresh scarlet charred and black. She put out one hand to brush away the flakes of burned lacquer.

  “All our hard work spoiled,” she said. And then she looked round and met Kai’s gaze. “But you put out the fire,” she said wonderingly. “How did you do that, Kai?”

  He was so relieved that she was unharmed that he could only stammer, “I d-don’t know. Honestly, I have no idea.” And then his legs gave way and he found himself on his knees, hands splayed wide on the burned grass to support himself.

  Sinking down beneath the waves. . .

  “What’s wrong?”

  Kai heard Sakami’s voice as if from far below the surface of the sea. But I’m still on dry land, it’s not yet time for the tide to turn.

  “Kai. Speak to me.” A hand gripped his shoulder and he blinked, seeing her face swimming above his, her eyes wide with concern. “Honou, he’s not responding, what should I do?”

  Sakami, I’m so happy that you’re worried about me. He forced himself to concentrate on her features, the pressure of her fingers digging into his shoulder, the sound of her voice. But everything seemed to be becoming indistinct, as though he were slowly drowning, drifting down to the bottom of the sea.

  “Come back, Kaito!” A sharp slap from cool fingers made him snap awake. He was lying on the rough ground inside the precincts of the little shrine and bending over him, so that one lock of her long black hair tickled his face, was Inari. The goddess’s face glimmered, as translucently pale as the full moon on a summer evening, and he blinked, dazzled by her light.

  “What happened?” He made an effort to sit up and felt Sakami place her arms around him, supporting him. He had forgotten how – in spite of her slight stature – years of hard work had made her strong and resilient.

  “You overreached yourself,” said Inari. “But I’m grateful to you for protecting my kitsune and driving Kurika away.”

  “Where did the water come from?” Kai asked dazedly.

  “From you – and the mountain stream. Even though you’re on land, you still have the ability to summon and manipulate water. But at some cost, Kaito.”

  “What cost?” Sakami asked, her arms tightening about his shoulders.

  “Every time you call on Shiomitsu’s powers, a little more of your mortal life force gets used up.”

  Kai looked at her, still not understanding what she meant.

  “You’re burning up your mortal lifespan too fast. If you continue in this way, soon there will be only your consciousness left – and then you will never be able to return to your life on land.”

  “But that’s not right – or fair!” The vehemence of Sakami’s reaction startled him. “Kai shouldn’t have to pay such a high price for protecting us.”

  “It’s all right, Sakami.” Kai turned around to reassure her. “I’m prepared to do anything I can to defeat Kurika.” Yet as he pronounced the shikigami’s name aloud, he realized how reckless he had been in revealing his identity. “But I can’t stay here any longer.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Kurika will tell his master that he’s seen me. And Hotaru wants me taken alive – at all costs.”

  And he started out down the track, determined to put as much distance between himself and Sakami, in case Hotaru acted on Kurika’s information.

  “Wait, Kai!” Sakami’s heart-wrenching cry almost made him turn back.

  Why can’t I stay with her just a little longer? But he could feel the relentless call of the tide tugging him back and he forced himself to stagger on down the steep path, sliding on the loose stones underfoot as he went. I’m so weak I’m not sure I can make it there in time.

  Each downhill step seemed to take more effort; it felt as if he was wading through deep water, fighting the current and losing until suddenly the loose scree underfoot gave way and he slid to the ground in a cloud of dust.

  “Ugh.” He tried to push himself back up but he had so little strength left that he flopped back. The sunlight was too bright; raising one hand to shade his eyes, he saw that the searing rays penetrated his palm as if it were made of glass.

  “What’s happening to me?”

  He had swum alongside jellyfish in the sea whose transparent tentacles were not dissimilar to this. Where there had been solid flesh and bone, he could see a fine tracery of his veins and muscles, all etched in a pale silvery translucence as if his body had already begun to fade and dissolve.

  “Listen to me, Kai.” He felt Inari’s fingers brush his cheek. He gazed up dazedly as she bent over him, her long hair falling around them both like a black silken curtain shielding out any intrusive watchers. “You must return to the sea and not come ashore until your mortal body has recovered.”

  “And what will happen, if I don’t?”

  “Your flesh and bone will dissolve into sea foam and only your spirit form will survive in Flood’s body, just as happened with my dearest lord, Lord Kurozuro. If you want any chance of returning to your life on land, you must rebuild your strength in the sea. Let Shiomitsu, whose life force you now share, heal you.”

  Kai, staring at his glassy fingers in horrified fascination, realized that through their wavering outline he could make out the grasses and rocks beyond.

  I’m. . .transparent.

  “But if I can’t come ashore, how can I protect my clan? And Sakami?”

  Inari gave a sharp little sigh. “Throw away what’s left of your mortal life now, if you must. But ask yourself, Kai, what’s the harm in waiting a little longer until you’ve healed?”

  The sense of panic has grown so strong he could hardly contain it. “How long is a little longer?”

  Something sleek and furry snuggled up against him. Startled, he looked down and saw a slender young vixen had crept close, staring up at him with gold imploring eyes.

  “Sakami?”

  The vixen nodded.

  “My kitsune must also conserve their energy in a similar fashion. This one also needs to rest in her fox-form from time to time to rebuild her strength.” The goddess’s words drifted to Kai as if borne on an offshore breeze, drowned by the distant roar of the incoming tide.

  Why is Inari being so kind? he found himself wondering as the relentless tide pulled him toward the cliff edge. Is it already too late for me? Must warn. . .Masao.

  As he toppled over the edge of the cliff, falling toward the sea far below he heard Sakami’s vixen-scream again, shrill with alarm. And then the sea washed over him and he could no longer hear her.

  Two lights pierced the cloudy sea water, luminously green.

  “Kai! What’s wrong?”

  He heard Masao calling him, his voice faint and indistinct.

  “Don’t. . . go ashore, Masao. . .” It took almost all of his failing strength to force the words out.

  “Why not?” The emerald lights were drawing closer and Kai realized that they were Ebb’s eyes.

  “It’s just as Inari warned us. She says we’ll dissolve into the sea, and never get our bodies back if we use up too much energy on land.”

  Powerful claws parted the water and gripped hold of him as, for a moment, both were washed close together in their Tide Dragon forms.

  The pain brought hi
m back to his senses.

  Green eyes seared into his, lit by a fierce and steadfast flame.

  “I won’t let that happen, Kai. I won’t let you dissolve.”

  Through his weariness, Kai heard the stubborn resolve in Masao’s voice. But the tug of the current was already pulling them apart and that brief moment of hope, so swiftly kindled, was just as swiftly extinguished as he felt the strong grip of the claws loosening their hold. And a feeling of desolate hopelessness washed through him as Masao was dragged away from him by the inexorable tide.

  We’re never going to be free of this curse. This is how it will be for us, day after day, year after year, in thrall to the sea until we die.

  Chapter 17

  Hotaru took a golden pin from his tray of brushes and pens and pricked his finger, releasing three drops of blood on to a paper charm he had inked earlier that day with certain arcane characters.

  Kurika suddenly materialized within the room, a slender column of black smoke that spiraled dizzyingly as his human form took shape, red eyes glaring resentfully at his master.

  Hotaru flung the charm into the spiral, aiming at the shikigami’s forehead and Kurika let out a shuddering cry, dropping to his knees before him, as the vortex of smoke melted away.

  “Why?” Hotaru said, standing over Kurika. “Why did you go off without my permission?”

  “That cursed collar – was too tight.” One of Kurika’s taloned hands clutched at his chest where the seal glowed like a burning coal.

  “Run away again and I’ll make you wear a muzzle as well as a collar.”

  “Muzzle me – and I won’t be able to tell you who I saw today. Or where I saw him.”

  “Oh?” Hotaru bent closer to the writhing shikigami. “And why would that be of interest to me?”

  “Set me – free first. I can’t – breathe.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Hotaru,” Uguisu trilled sweetly from her cage. “He’s bluffing.”

  “Shut your beak, Nightingale,” snarled Kurika, baring his teeth at her before collapsing again, a loud groaning issuing from his mouth as he thrashed wildly in agony.

  “Is everything all right, majesty?” Kobai’s voice could only just be heard outside the room above the din.

  There was nothing for it but to calm Kurika down before the imperial guards came to investigate the cause of the commotion. Hotaru sighed and plucked the charm from Kurika’s forehead. The shikigami instantly collapsed on to the tatami mats, his face averted so that Hotaru could not see his expression.

  “So who did you see?”

  “Flood’s Sacrifice.” Kurika raised his head and shot him a triumphant grin. He seemed to have made a remarkably swift recovery.

  “Lord Kaito?” Hotaru was careful not to appear too interested. “So he’s shown himself at last. And where was this?”

  Kurika’s red eyes narrowed. “On my mountain. Where he has no business to be. With that whore Inari.”

  “Was there anyone else – apart from Inari – with Lord Kaito?”

  “Only fox trash. Her meddling little kitsune, polluting my mountain with their foul stink.”

  “Kaito was on land? Not in the sea? Not in Flood Dragon form?” Hotaru could hardly believe what Kurika was telling him. “So why didn’t you capture him for me?”

  Kurika spat out a little gobbet of fire. Hotaru leapt up and stamped on it before it burned a hole in the tatami mat.

  “Why, Kurika?”

  “Because you summoned me back, Lord Onmyōji.” A sly, sullen glint of red appeared between Kurika’s half-closed lids.

  “So he’s still there? On Mount Sakuranbo? What was he doing?”

  But Kurika would say nothing more, although a thin snort of smoke escaped his nostrils.

  “So Kaito’s allied himself with Inari.” Hotaru began to pace the room, processing the information. “Just like his ancestor Lord Kurozuro. But what about Masao?”

  “You still plan to create new Tide Jewels?” Uguisu asked, preening her wing feathers.

  “What choice do I have? The Autumn Moon Festival is drawing closer by the day and if I fail to summon the Tide Dragons, my reign as emperor will be over.”

  “Yet, as things stand now, no one else will be able to summon them either.”

  “What are you saying?” Hotaru stopped in front of her cage. She looked up from her preening and fixed him with one piercing golden eye.

  “The Tide Jewels were destroyed. You will have to find another way to bind the two Sacrifices if you want to force them to obey you, Hotaru. You will have to make them your shikigami too.”

  “No!” The word issued on a growl of fury from Kurika’s mouth.

  There was a soft rustle of feathers and Hotaru felt a cooling waft of air; Nightingale was gently fanning him with her wings. He closed his eyes, letting her pure aura calm the pounding in his temples. Just as she used to soothe me years ago when I was feverish.

  “Make them both my shikigami?” he said. “But how?”

  “For a binding ritual you need a lock of hair, a drop of blood. . .even a dragon scale,” she said, fluttering back to her perch.

  “Is that all?” Hotaru threw his hands in the air in frustration. “And just how do you suggest I’m going to get those?”

  “You could send Kurika.”

  Kurika merely let out a dry, dismissive snarl.

  “Failing that, a personal possession might work. It’s not as effective, but didn’t you say that both Sacrifices left certain items behind when they were became one with the Tide Dragons? You still have Kaito’s flute. I can sense that there’s some kind of summoning magic embedded in the wood, an ancient spell, faint but still potent. You just have to play the correct melody – and Flood will have to come to your call.”

  Hotaru picked up the ebony flute, weighing it in his hands. “But even if I capture Kaito with this flute, I need Masao as well.”

  “Didn’t you say he left his sword behind? A katana is a very personal weapon. That blade must still be imbued with traces of its wielder’s life force. Where is it now?”

  “I gave it back to his brother, Lord Naoki,” Hotaru said, wishing now that he had kept hold of it.

  “Tsk! That was careless of you.”

  “But Naoki is in my debt. I’ll ask him to bring it to the Autumn Moon Festival. He won’t be able to refuse.”

  “But why must you be so dependent on those willful Tide Dragons? Cut your ties. You have me and Kurika to protect you.”

  “You know very well why,” he said to her, rather more irritably than he intended.

  Uguisu responded with a little skirl of high-pitched notes and retreated to her perch, ruffling her feathers. “Dear, dear, you’re so touchy these days.”

  “Forgive me,” he said hastily. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Uguisu. I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

  “Even with that pretty young wife of yours to care for you?”

  Was that a slight hint of pique in her voice? “Why, Uguisu, I never knew you could be jealous.”

  A breath of a breeze shivered through the room as the figure of a slender woman clothed in a kimono of white feathers appeared beside him.

  “I have always been here for you,” she said, gazing appealingly at him from bright, bird-like eyes of gold and black, “and I always will. I would never break the promise I made your mother to watch over you.”

  The mention of his mother, long dead, stirred bitter-sweet memories; Uguisu, originally her shikigami, had taken her place in so many ways. “Then advise me. Tell me what to do for the best.” He turned to her. “I’m surrounded by ambitious courtiers, all seeking to advance their careers, and I don’t know who to trust.”

  “It’s very simple,” she said, stroking his cheek. “You’re just going to have to learn to play that ebony flute.”

  ***

  When, that morning, Princess Omiya pressed a copy into Ayaka’s hands of Lord Kashiwagi’s account of a recent journey to Xiang, she had described it as “u
tterly riveting,” insisting, “You really must read this, my dear, everyone’s talking about it.” But Ayaka’s attention kept wandering from the text to the ebony flute that Kobai had delivered earlier, leaving it resting on a little stand, like a warrior’s katana.

  Eventually she abandoned the “riveting” travelogue and picked up the flute, weighing it in her hands.

  I wonder why Hotaru sent it.

  It felt sleek and smooth to the touch, like old driftwood polished by the rise and fall of tide – and yet it was unblemished.

  It looks very like the flute that Lord Kaito used to calm Prince Shiomitsu and stop him flooding the land.

  Yet the young man who had rescued her from drowning had been branded a traitor. There was a high price on his head.

  Drowning. . .

  For a moment the horror that she had tried to forget rose up again, a storm surge, threatening to overwhelm her. Water filling my mouth, my throat, my lungs, dragging me down into the darkness. . . And then the memory of Kaito’s strong grip, his earnest voice, reassuring her, the eerie glint of blue in his eyes gazing intently into hers. . .

  What would happen if I tried to coax a note or two myself?

  She had never made much progress in learning the instrument; in fact, she had been the despair of her teacher who had made her switch to the four-stringed biwa instead – without greater success. Yet she found herself pursing her lips to blow a gentle breath across the mouthpiece. A low, breathy pitch issued – and then another as she tried again.

  “Don’t stop.”

  It was Hotaru. Ayaka started, hastily putting the flute back on its stand.

  “But I have absolutely no talent.” She was so embarrassed that he must have heard her pitiful attempts that she wished she could disappear through the tatami mats. “Would you like tea?”

  “Jasmine tea would be refreshing.”

  Ayaka could have summoned one of her ladies to serve her husband but she wanted to have Hotaru all to herself. She was so happy that he had come to see her that she started to hum softly as she prepared the tea.